fanfic: just tonight (chapter 1 of 1); rated:MA
“At least they left the house.”
He growls; there really is no other word for it. Standing with his back to his bedroom door, Damon Salvatore growled at the intruder. “If I have to tell you I’m not in the mood one more time,” he tries leaving off the end of the sentence - honestly he does - he just doubts that she would get the message otherwise. “You won’t make it to see the sacrifice.”
She knew she was expected to scoff. It truly was a game they played. Damon threatened and Katherine pretended to cower and it was business as usual in the Salvatore boarding house.
Only tonight isn’t a night for ‘business as usual.’
Tonight isn’t a night for pretending.
Instead Katherine just frowns, and makes her way into Damon’s bedroom.
He straightens, shaking his head in a way that she couldn’t remember witnessing after he had been turned. “If it’s any consolation Damon, I know.”
He wants to laugh. Damon honestly wants to drain his Scotch, choke in a breath and laugh in Katherine’s face. He isn’t entirely sure why he can’t. He isn’t sure why he can’t even turn around and face her. “I’m only sure I have no idea what you’re blathering about.”
“Naturally,” of all of the things that he had expected of her to do now that she had invaded his space, twirling a lock of chocolate hair around a finger as she stares at the floor wasn’t even close. When she felt that she had his attention, her eyes lifted to his. “Because neither one of us has ever been passed over as second best.”
Her tone is biting and he almost wants to laugh.
Or cry.
“Last time I checked, only one of us actually deserved what came to her.” He pulls at the buttons of his cuffs, deciding that there is no telling when Stefan and everyone’s favorite human would be returning back to the house from whatever romantic gesture his brother cooked up to pretend that the full moon isn’t tomorrow, so he might as well retire now. “You’re not Elena, Katherine.” He shrugged out of his button-down, leaving a rarely used undershirt visible. There is no need to be completely exposed to his sire. “And the sad thing is you never could be.”
She certainly understood why he thought that. Despite the persona Katherine Pierce allowed her in 1864, the naïve debutant had never truly been her style. It makes her shudder when the look in his eyes reminds her of why.
Damon was on edge tonight, angry and frustrated. The fact that Stefan could get today and tonight with Elena while he would most likely not even get a goodbye was weighing on him. And fortunately enough it was something else that Katherine understands too well. “I could you know.” The words were out of her mouth before she can take them back, and she finds herself not wanting to.
There is no way that she is offering what he thinks she is offering. “Katherine…”
She nods, insuring that her purpose is crystal clear, “I could be her.” It’s a consolation prize, a ‘thanks for playing’ that he would be able to warp into some semblance of a memory if Elijah’s plan failed and these were the last two days anyone had with her precious doppelgänger.
“Please,” he’s fairly certain that there was supposed to be a ‘no’ after that. There was supposed to be a lot of words after that. It was too late though, he’d hesitated just a breath too long.
And amazingly enough, she is there; brown eyes wide and chin quivering. Katherine had flipped the switch to turn it on just as easily as Damon had shut down. And he knew it wasn’t right that it wasn’t her. “…Damon…” Moisture flooded into her eyes, forcing him to confront the longing they had both held at bay for far too long.
“Please.”
And just tonight, I won’t leave.
I’ll lie and you’ll believe.
Just tonight, I will see
that it’s all because of me!
There isn’t a single weapon in Damon’s entire well stocked arsenal to combat this moment.
Two steps forward and she’s close enough for him to slide his hand over her clavicle and up the column of her neck to catch the back of her head. She gasps into his mouth and for a fraction of a second, Damon wonders if this was the most brilliant idea he’s had in the last one hundred and fifty years. But then her hands lace around his neck, her finger sinking into the short hairs at his nape. Suddenly he’s never been surer of anything in his entire life.
Letting go is no longer an option, and there is only one way that Damon knows to hold on.
She is on her tip-toes now, in a pair of distressed jeans and a tank top that Damon almost immediately recognizes if he allows himself to concentrate, and it doesn’t matter anymore because her face, her body is still the most beautiful thing that he’s ever seen.
If this were any other situation, he’d be concerned with being gentle as he removes her pants, taking his time to allow her to step out of one leg and then the other. Instead, he tears at the fabric, willing to just buy Elena another pair, and when he reaches the line of her thong he realizes that he’s no longer wearing the undershirt.
She uses his shoulders for leverage, hoisting herself up to his level and wrapping her legs tight over his hips. Damon’s stomach is drenched even through the thin barrier that her panties provide. He forces a breath that he doesn’t need and his hands latch onto her ass, anchoring her to him.
It takes all of the strength he has ever possessed not to drop her to the floor and take her there.
Her legs relax as he turns to the bed, and she slides lower on his torso and Damon briefly inquires as to what happened to his pants. In the end it doesn’t really matter, so he lays her down, a thin scrap of cloth between them. There isn’t a breath before he pops the elastic on one side of her panties with two fingers and aligns their hips for the one part of this whole fucked up night that he knows he understands.
But his eyes lock onto hers before he can think to thrust. She already knows that it’s not her he’s seeing anymore. “Don’t leave me.”
Brown eyes snap shut and Damon almost swears that he can see tears peeking out from the corners of her eyelids.
His lips crash against hers and he forces himself to slow down. “I love you.” Damon whispers into her hair, her forehead, and her eyelids. She wanted to open them, but she couldn’t. The love he had isn’t hers anymore, and she can’t stand to see it. This was what had been denying herself since that first day she’d been back. This had been the cost of the lies that she told.
Just before he ceded to her body, he slowly ravaged her mouth again.
She groans when he enters her, as his pelvic bone scrapes against hers. When the moan erupts from her lips, unchallenged and unadulterated, he smiles a little, firmly taking one of her hips in hand and pulling himself deeper inside of her.
The world stops. There is no sacrifice, no Klaus. No one is cursed; brother loves brother and doppelgängers are concepts that only exist in bad B movies and fairytales. There is nothing but his body and hers and breaths that he doesn’t need to take; heartbeats that he can’t hear.
But that isn’t a thought that Damon is allowed to have at present.
Her legs twin around his then; one hand brushing against any available expanse of skin that she can find. Her other winds it’s way down his bicep, until she can lace the fingers of his left with her right.
He tries so hard to block out the memory of the first time he had done this, the symphony of push and pull; because it has never been in her nature to give without taking. She has never allowed him the option of savoring the sweet without the bite, the soft instead of the caustic.
With the first stroke, she comes undone. Her hips accept his rhythm with the third stroke, matching it by the fourth. He feels her body quake, hears her breath catch. There are tricks to keeping an orgasm at bay, and she seemed to be employing every single one of them.
Damon couldn’t allow that.
He kneads her hips with the hand that’s not attached to hers, his thrust controlled, slow and steady. With a harsh laugh he snaps his own back, forcing her lower half almost completely off of the mattress. Forcing himself deeper into her. It’s the definition of too far, too fast.
“Open your eyes.” He commands softly, ghosting his lips over hers. “Look at me.” His voice breaks when she complies, her eyes softening and flooding with liquid for a second time. Damon watches with rapt attention as she surrenders to him, to the sensory overload that has become her surroundings. And when she crests - one long wave after another - it rips through him, pulling his own with it.
And then he slept.
The sheets hadn’t thought to cool when he opens his eyes to discover that she’s rolled them to their sides. They’re facing away from each other now.
“Why?”
It’s a question that he has asked her so many times in so many ways.
He couldn’t see her face. He didn’t have to. They might have had a tumultuous relationship in the past that literally spanned lifetimes, but he knew her face almost as better than his own. “Because,” she allows, her voice dropping. “For a second…” Her voice is cracked and she swallows a mouthful of air while she tried her hardest not to answer him. “For a split second Damon,’ as much as she knows they both hate where the night has suddenly turned, she isn’t physically capable of hiding from the truth.
Neither one of them want to anymore.
There were tears again, his or hers, it didn’t quite matter anymore.
“I got to pretend it was me.”
And if I, I am through
Then it’s all because of you.
Just tonight.
He growls; there really is no other word for it. Standing with his back to his bedroom door, Damon Salvatore growled at the intruder. “If I have to tell you I’m not in the mood one more time,” he tries leaving off the end of the sentence - honestly he does - he just doubts that she would get the message otherwise. “You won’t make it to see the sacrifice.”
She knew she was expected to scoff. It truly was a game they played. Damon threatened and Katherine pretended to cower and it was business as usual in the Salvatore boarding house.
Only tonight isn’t a night for ‘business as usual.’
Tonight isn’t a night for pretending.
Instead Katherine just frowns, and makes her way into Damon’s bedroom.
He straightens, shaking his head in a way that she couldn’t remember witnessing after he had been turned. “If it’s any consolation Damon, I know.”
He wants to laugh. Damon honestly wants to drain his Scotch, choke in a breath and laugh in Katherine’s face. He isn’t entirely sure why he can’t. He isn’t sure why he can’t even turn around and face her. “I’m only sure I have no idea what you’re blathering about.”
“Naturally,” of all of the things that he had expected of her to do now that she had invaded his space, twirling a lock of chocolate hair around a finger as she stares at the floor wasn’t even close. When she felt that she had his attention, her eyes lifted to his. “Because neither one of us has ever been passed over as second best.”
Her tone is biting and he almost wants to laugh.
Or cry.
“Last time I checked, only one of us actually deserved what came to her.” He pulls at the buttons of his cuffs, deciding that there is no telling when Stefan and everyone’s favorite human would be returning back to the house from whatever romantic gesture his brother cooked up to pretend that the full moon isn’t tomorrow, so he might as well retire now. “You’re not Elena, Katherine.” He shrugged out of his button-down, leaving a rarely used undershirt visible. There is no need to be completely exposed to his sire. “And the sad thing is you never could be.”
She certainly understood why he thought that. Despite the persona Katherine Pierce allowed her in 1864, the naïve debutant had never truly been her style. It makes her shudder when the look in his eyes reminds her of why.
Damon was on edge tonight, angry and frustrated. The fact that Stefan could get today and tonight with Elena while he would most likely not even get a goodbye was weighing on him. And fortunately enough it was something else that Katherine understands too well. “I could you know.” The words were out of her mouth before she can take them back, and she finds herself not wanting to.
There is no way that she is offering what he thinks she is offering. “Katherine…”
She nods, insuring that her purpose is crystal clear, “I could be her.” It’s a consolation prize, a ‘thanks for playing’ that he would be able to warp into some semblance of a memory if Elijah’s plan failed and these were the last two days anyone had with her precious doppelgänger.
“Please,” he’s fairly certain that there was supposed to be a ‘no’ after that. There was supposed to be a lot of words after that. It was too late though, he’d hesitated just a breath too long.
And amazingly enough, she is there; brown eyes wide and chin quivering. Katherine had flipped the switch to turn it on just as easily as Damon had shut down. And he knew it wasn’t right that it wasn’t her. “…Damon…” Moisture flooded into her eyes, forcing him to confront the longing they had both held at bay for far too long.
“Please.”
And just tonight, I won’t leave.
I’ll lie and you’ll believe.
Just tonight, I will see
that it’s all because of me!
There isn’t a single weapon in Damon’s entire well stocked arsenal to combat this moment.
Two steps forward and she’s close enough for him to slide his hand over her clavicle and up the column of her neck to catch the back of her head. She gasps into his mouth and for a fraction of a second, Damon wonders if this was the most brilliant idea he’s had in the last one hundred and fifty years. But then her hands lace around his neck, her finger sinking into the short hairs at his nape. Suddenly he’s never been surer of anything in his entire life.
Letting go is no longer an option, and there is only one way that Damon knows to hold on.
She is on her tip-toes now, in a pair of distressed jeans and a tank top that Damon almost immediately recognizes if he allows himself to concentrate, and it doesn’t matter anymore because her face, her body is still the most beautiful thing that he’s ever seen.
If this were any other situation, he’d be concerned with being gentle as he removes her pants, taking his time to allow her to step out of one leg and then the other. Instead, he tears at the fabric, willing to just buy Elena another pair, and when he reaches the line of her thong he realizes that he’s no longer wearing the undershirt.
She uses his shoulders for leverage, hoisting herself up to his level and wrapping her legs tight over his hips. Damon’s stomach is drenched even through the thin barrier that her panties provide. He forces a breath that he doesn’t need and his hands latch onto her ass, anchoring her to him.
It takes all of the strength he has ever possessed not to drop her to the floor and take her there.
Her legs relax as he turns to the bed, and she slides lower on his torso and Damon briefly inquires as to what happened to his pants. In the end it doesn’t really matter, so he lays her down, a thin scrap of cloth between them. There isn’t a breath before he pops the elastic on one side of her panties with two fingers and aligns their hips for the one part of this whole fucked up night that he knows he understands.
But his eyes lock onto hers before he can think to thrust. She already knows that it’s not her he’s seeing anymore. “Don’t leave me.”
Brown eyes snap shut and Damon almost swears that he can see tears peeking out from the corners of her eyelids.
His lips crash against hers and he forces himself to slow down. “I love you.” Damon whispers into her hair, her forehead, and her eyelids. She wanted to open them, but she couldn’t. The love he had isn’t hers anymore, and she can’t stand to see it. This was what had been denying herself since that first day she’d been back. This had been the cost of the lies that she told.
Just before he ceded to her body, he slowly ravaged her mouth again.
She groans when he enters her, as his pelvic bone scrapes against hers. When the moan erupts from her lips, unchallenged and unadulterated, he smiles a little, firmly taking one of her hips in hand and pulling himself deeper inside of her.
The world stops. There is no sacrifice, no Klaus. No one is cursed; brother loves brother and doppelgängers are concepts that only exist in bad B movies and fairytales. There is nothing but his body and hers and breaths that he doesn’t need to take; heartbeats that he can’t hear.
But that isn’t a thought that Damon is allowed to have at present.
Her legs twin around his then; one hand brushing against any available expanse of skin that she can find. Her other winds it’s way down his bicep, until she can lace the fingers of his left with her right.
He tries so hard to block out the memory of the first time he had done this, the symphony of push and pull; because it has never been in her nature to give without taking. She has never allowed him the option of savoring the sweet without the bite, the soft instead of the caustic.
With the first stroke, she comes undone. Her hips accept his rhythm with the third stroke, matching it by the fourth. He feels her body quake, hears her breath catch. There are tricks to keeping an orgasm at bay, and she seemed to be employing every single one of them.
Damon couldn’t allow that.
He kneads her hips with the hand that’s not attached to hers, his thrust controlled, slow and steady. With a harsh laugh he snaps his own back, forcing her lower half almost completely off of the mattress. Forcing himself deeper into her. It’s the definition of too far, too fast.
“Open your eyes.” He commands softly, ghosting his lips over hers. “Look at me.” His voice breaks when she complies, her eyes softening and flooding with liquid for a second time. Damon watches with rapt attention as she surrenders to him, to the sensory overload that has become her surroundings. And when she crests - one long wave after another - it rips through him, pulling his own with it.
And then he slept.
The sheets hadn’t thought to cool when he opens his eyes to discover that she’s rolled them to their sides. They’re facing away from each other now.
“Why?”
It’s a question that he has asked her so many times in so many ways.
He couldn’t see her face. He didn’t have to. They might have had a tumultuous relationship in the past that literally spanned lifetimes, but he knew her face almost as better than his own. “Because,” she allows, her voice dropping. “For a second…” Her voice is cracked and she swallows a mouthful of air while she tried her hardest not to answer him. “For a split second Damon,’ as much as she knows they both hate where the night has suddenly turned, she isn’t physically capable of hiding from the truth.
Neither one of them want to anymore.
There were tears again, his or hers, it didn’t quite matter anymore.
“I got to pretend it was me.”
And if I, I am through
Then it’s all because of you.
Just tonight.